Chapter 31 #2
As the crowd moved toward book signings and refreshments, one question lingered in the air: where does professional association end and something more personal begin?
Samar clicked out of the article and locked his mobile.
He did not need to glean more media material.
KDP was finishing its final rally in Srinagar, and Atharva could not stop playing the lovesick fool.
He glanced up and found Atharva in deep conversation with Toru Ray of Star, the post-rally party in full swing.
Toru Ray stepped back from him and moved away.
Samar saw her run into a man he knew. Khalil Khan.
He checked for Atharva but he was nowhere in sight anymore.
Samar took his eyes to Khalil Khan instead.
The Head of North for Star. He was now talking to his star journalist, his eyes meeting somebody’s in the distance and smiling.
Samar followed that gaze and his blood stilled in his veins.
Amaal.
She was walking towards them.
Khalil extended his arm mid-conversation with Toru Ray and Amaal went into it like she belonged there. The three of them made a circle, talking. But what remained remiss was Khalil’s arm around Amaal. And Amaal’s complete ignorance of the fact.
Or maybe she was aware.
Welcomed it.
Samar felt the still blood in his veins turn stone. It shouldn’t. It should keep flowing.
Khalil’s hand reached the ball of her shoulder and he stroked it up and down.
Samar had never touched her there.
Or anywhere.
She was the kind of girl you didn’t touch.
She was the kind of girl you admired from a safe distance, counting your lucky stars you got that front seat.
She was now not only in Khalil’s arm but also leaning back into him. Smiling. Turning her jaw to look him in the eye and laughing.
That dimple. That deep dimple. That fucking deep dimple that popped like an anomaly and stayed like a star.
His buzzing phone made him take his eyes off her face. Samar focused on the message he had just received.
UNKNOWN
IMG_1674
IMG_1675
IMG_1676
VID_4401
Will you pay for these or should I take them into the market?
60 seconds to decide
Samar clicked download. It loaded, and his eyes widened.
UNKNOWN
Yes?
He toggled the silent button on his mobile and played the video. Atharva kissing Iram. In the backyard of her fucking house behind this party?! Samar glanced around, panning across the number of journalists, reporters, media heads present.
Was he even serious about this election anymore?
Samar clicked on the sender’s details. He could decode and find the guy. Buy time, buy the photos, crush him. He could do so much.
Or.
Damage control for something like this would be to send her as far away from here as possible.
He exited the app and locked his mobile. And waited for the minute to pass.
————————————————————
The night was long. The meetings longer.
Samar sat through the first few where Amaal was screaming the room down and Atharva was trying his best to stop the publications, Qureshi already in damage control mode as he began accepting calls from their partners across party lines.
Qureshi announced that the best bet would be to keep Iram out of the public and media glare until the election ended.
To keep her out of their circuit altogether. Fucking finally.
Samar quietly exited the room, not about to support him and enrage Atharva even more. Atharva needed a calm head and no bias as he made this decision.
For 3.30 am in the morning, the hall was lit up like a junkie. Everything outside was dulled. Dark. Quiet.
He stepped out of the big house and walked down the verandah.
Samar sat down on the top step and pulled out his box of cigarettes.
He lit one up, and let out a smoke of relief.
After days, weeks, months, his mind finally returned to its status quo.
No fears. No panic. No thoughts. Not good ones, not bad ones.
Whatever was in front of him after this, he could handle it.
He would.
As long as the trigger of his life’s worst moment did not amble here. As long as it did not become a part of Atharva’s life. His life. Their life.
Iram Haider deserved a safe life, but a safe life away from them.
Samar finished the cigarette and lit another one, puffing up and holding it out between his fingers. His mind slowly quietened. Static, but the best kind of static.
No thought.
Empty mind.
He closed his eyes.
What a relief.
“You are smoking.”
His eyes popped open. How had he not smelled her? Or heard her?
“What the fuck is wrong with you people today?!” Amaal yelled into his quiet static.
He turned his head, eyeing her. She looked like she would break into parts and fly off.
His hand instantly went to clamp over the only part of her it could reach — her ankle.
She startled. He took his hand off — “Sorry.”
“What are you doing?”
He shook his head.
“What is wrong with you people?!!” She rubbed her hands over her face. Kept rubbing.
“Relax.”
“Don’t use that word in front of me!”
“Hmm.”
“Not that word either!”
“Ok.”
“Not that either! Ugggggh!!” She began to walk away when he stood up and blocked her path. “I am sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“You look… frustrated.”
“So?” She barked. “Atharva needs to be sorry! What the fuck was he thinking?! What the actual fuck were they… Uggggghh!” She huffed, shaking her head.
Her dark eyes met his and she sighed, a smile coming to her mouth even in this moment.
That should have made her a lunatic but Samar admired it.
He admired the hint of that dimple. Just the promise of it was beautiful. But why was she smiling?
“Why are you smiling?”
“Now he has decided to marry Iram.”
Something slipped from his mouth. A smile. Samar felt his finger singed. The cigarette had burned to the butt. He crushed it between his fingers, feeling the burn and yet not feeling it.
“Can you repeat that?”
Amaal threw her face into her hands and rubbed — “He wants to marry Iram. Legitimise this.” Her hands came down and she was smiling unabashedly. “It’s so stupid how happy I can be for these two and so done with what’s about to come. It’s going to be a…”
“What kind of a solution is that?”
She stilled. Then nodded — “It’s a logical one.”
“But Qureshi said to send her away…”
“Doesn’t clean Atharva’s character.”
“Bu…”
“This saves them both. And the media stories that I can play with…” she looked downright gleeful. “But we need to get over the short term losses first…”
She kept talking but he did not listen. His blank mind was suddenly erupting with a future. A non-future. Atharva with Aamir Haider’s daughter forever. Atharva, Aamir Haider’s daughter’s husband. The man who had fought the hardest against Aamir Haider, now his son-in-law.
“…and you had smoked that day too, isn’t it?”
“Huh?”
She pointed to his hand. He dropped whatever was left of the cigarette butt.
“Let’s go in.”
“How many did you smoke?” Amaal gasped, eyes on the second step. He looked. And realised he had smoked more than the two that he had counted. His blank mind had gone too blank. The floor was littered with cigarette butts. He patted his pocket. The pack felt lighter.
“Let’s go.” He climbed the step and walked inside the house, down the hall and alley, and to the open door of Atharva’s office.
Qureshi was chuckling, “…beware, nobody comes out of marriage alive.”
Samar stopped at the threshold. “What is happening?”
Atharva’s face turned to him. Stoic. Hard. Final.
It’s confirmed, Daaxsaab, her body has been identified.
“I am marrying Iram.”